


Building with Both Hands

by ishtarelisheba



Series: Better to Face the Bullets 'verse [6]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Gen, Ish promptathon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-03 03:22:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10234721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ishtarelisheba/pseuds/ishtarelisheba
Summary: Worried about Neal in the wake of his renewed nightmares, Belle wakes to check on him after he begins sleeping in his own room again. A BtFtB one-shot.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt - _rowofstars said: BtFtB: Belle overhears a sweet moment between Maurice and Neal._

Belle started awake. She reached over, turning the lamp key and squinting to see her table clock. Not quite half past one, and she was still in her bed alone.

Neal had decided to try sleeping in his own room tonight, and she wouldn’t have believed that it could make her sleep fitful to _not_ have him sharing her covers for the first time in a week. She sat up, pulling her dressing gown from the end of the bed and shrugging into it. If she didn’t check on him, she wouldn’t get back to sleep.

She left her door open so that the soft light would follow her into the hallway and went quietly down to Neal’s bedroom. The door stood open and he was gone from his bed. For a moment, she worried - until she heard a giggle make its way up the stairs. Pulling her dressing gown close around her and looping the belt through, she made her way down, utterly unsurprised to find Neal and her father in the kitchen. With a quick lean to look around the doorframe before hiding behind the wall again, she caught a glimpse of the pair in their pajamas. They bent over a draughts board from opposite sides of the middle counter.

“Mm, look here,” her father said. “When you get your piece to this side, you have the other player king you. Remember, son? They have to place one of the pieces they took from you atop yours.”

“I remember. King me,” Neal repeated. Belle heard him patting the countertop happily.

“I believe you might have me played into a corner!” her father exclaimed, a bit too dramatic. She covered her mouth with her hand to silence her snicker.

“Who taught you how to play draughts?” Neal asked.

“Oh, my Pop taught me. Around the time I was your age, I do believe.”

“Pop?”

“My father.”

 _“Your_ father?” Neal sounded as though it hadn’t occurred to him that Maurice once had a father of his own. 

“He taught me how to play chess, as well, once I was a bit older.”

Neal gave a drawn out, “Hmmm…” and she heard one of his pieces slide on the wooden board. After a few moments of quiet he asked softly, “Did your Papa ever get sad?”

“Well, yes. I suppose he did, sometime,” Maurice eventually replied.

It took another moment before Neal said, “My Papa gets sad sometimes. He got so sad one time he couldn’t get out of bed.”

Belle could practically hear her father’s discomfort. She readied herself to step in, worried what he might say to the boy. She’d heard some ridiculous things come out of her father’s mouth, and none of them were things that Neal needed to hear.

“Well…” Maurice said, hesitating. “I believe that may be because… your Papa saw a lot of frightening and upsetting things during the war.”

“And that made him sad?”

“It can make a person sad, yes. War makes many people sad in many, many ways.”

Belle wrapped her arms around herself, leaning against the wall, listening.

“From what I hear, your Papa is doing a great deal better now,” Maurice went on.

“I think so. Belle and Dr. Hopper say so,” Neal said, though he didn’t sound wholly confident in the idea.

“If Belle says so, then you ought to listen,” her father counseled. “She knows what she talks about, doesn’t she?”

“She does,” Neal agreed. “Belle is smart. She knows things.”

“All sorts of things. Hold on, now, you can’t move a piece that way,” Maurice corrected. “Now then, you see? Your Papa will be just fine. If Belle thinks so, I wouldn’t dare wager against her.”

Neal didn’t speak for a couple of minutes. When he did, he asked, “What’s a wager?”

“Oh. Ah… a bet. Do you know what a bet is? Well, it’s when you compete at something, or you believe something is going to happen, and you make a deal a bit like… If it rains tomorrow, I’ll give you fifty pence. If it doesn’t, then you give me fifty pence,” Maurice explained. “Or you play a game and put money on the winner.”

“Can we wager on draughts?” Neal asked cheerfully.

“N- no. No I don’t think that’s a good idea,” her father said, and she breathed a laugh into her hand. “Wagers are for older folk, all right? Belle would have my hide if I taught you to gamble.”

Belle stepped quietly away from the kitchen door, content to go back upstairs in the knowledge that Neal and her father were both in good hands for the night.

**Author's Note:**

> _(Takes place between chapter 125 and 126.)_


End file.
